There'll be some changes made today!
by Hamfast Gamgee
Summary: Goodnight Sweetheart, a Comedy from the Nineties. I should point out that I didn't write Goodnight Sweetheart, that was Al Boyle, neither Waterloo, that was Abba! But then neither did Gary! Please Read and Review!
1. Chapter 1

This is Goodnight Sweetheart, a Comedy that was popular at one time in the mid-nineties.

Disclaimer: The program was created by Laurance Marks and Maurice Gram

Goodnight Sweetheart the tune written by Al Boyle

Waterloo written by Abba I think it was!

I notice from my stats that people are regularly visiting this tale. This is good, though I suspect that some are merely curious as to what the forum is. But I would really appreciate any reviews, thoughts, comments that anyone might have, even though there aren't many other Goodnight Sweetheart stories out there, well, none that I can see, but I would love more reviews, please, Ham!

Goodnight Sweetheart, all my prays are for you

Goodnight Sweetheart, I'll be thinking of you

Dreams and fortune can make us forlorn

But we'll be born. A new day had dawned

Gary Sparrow was busy. Or at least he was under the impression of been busy. He moved the table of his little starter home in a cul-de-sac in Cricklewood. He swept under it. Looked sighed, swept under it some more. He adjusted the furniture a little. Then he started. Gary quickly rushed into the kitchen to make some adjustments to the meal he was cooking. Gary was expecting guests that evening. As was his wife, Yvonne. In fact, it was at that moment that Yvonne entered the house. She wasn't that impressed with Gary's tidying up and prombly moved the furniture back to where it was.

'Don't mess about with the furniture Gary, it looks untidy! Well, with a little adjustments it should be fine for our guests!' she looked at her husband with amusement. Yvonne did sometimes think of Gary as some sort of intelligent pet. Rather cute, but a bit irritating at times and needed some direction to cope with the dynamics of mid-nineties living. In fact there was rather more to Gary than even his wife realized, but that will come later!

The year was 1997, Gary was in his late-twenties- early-thirties, very tall, well over 6ft, skinny with rather a hang-dog face and brown hair. His wife was well below him in terms of height had a sort of mousy-blond hair and was the same age. Gary, however, didn't look that impressed with the guests he was expecting. 'Oh, yes, we must make a good impression for Mr Criptinson from your work. He's such an engaging character after all!

'Oh, you can call him Dave, Dave doesn't mind been called by his first name, and what's wrong with him?'

'He's an accountant!' muttered Gary.

'Gary, lots of people are accountants, what's wrong with that?'

'He goes on about his accountancy at work all the time and there is nothing more boring than listening to someone constantly going on about his work politics, this and that, his clients, blah, blah,' Gary gave a mock yawn and put his hand over his mouth. He didn't quite think this, but sometimes he did like to wind Yvonne up a bit and try to put some realism into her enthusiasm over work and matters.

'So he likes his work. Don't be such a grump. Oh, go on you said you'd be on your best behaviour, you're making one of your dinners, be you're normal entertaining self for Dave and Sarah!' There was a slight tinge of irony in her voice and sometimes she felt that Gary didn't make much of an effort for social occasions. She gave his cheeks a pat and Gary responded with a little smile.

'Also, Dave said he'd reply by meeting us with a business lunch tomorrow at 1, you coming?'

Gary looked horrified and tried to think of an excuse, 'No, sorry, I'm at work, lots on!'

'Like what?' asked Yvonne skeptically.

Gary blushed and tried desperately to think of something, 'Er, the Accounts?'

The next day, at said time, Gary was actually in his shop. It was an unusual kind of shop which sold archive material from the forties. How did all this stock come from the forties? Well, through the passage of time. Kind off! Gary was standing behind the counter talking to his friend Ron a rather stocky exiled Scouser. 'Well that was one of the most boring evenings I've had for a while!' declared he. 'I don't know what you where doing, but it couldn't have been more dull than me!'

'Well, actually, it was about my marriage...' started Ron, but Gary cut him off, barely listening. He did have a tendency to do this a lot.

'But never mind. I'm afraid that Yvonne is getting a bit ambitious lately. Must do something about that!'

'You said you'd support her, Gary! She is your wife, after all, quite a go-getting woman!'

Gary responded with a bit of feeling. 'Yes, she is. And I do. I love her more than anyone!'

'Apart from Phoebe!' Ron rather brutally butt in referring to Gary's mistress.

'Well, obviously apart from Phoebe.' Gary had the good grace to look a bit embarrassed. He did lead a bit of a double life to be honest. Well, to be totally honest, if there was anyone who lead more of a double life than Gary Sparrow it has never been documented! He spend half of his time as a loving husband to his wife, Yvonne. And yet...

Recently, Gary had discovered the secret of time travel. How it worked, he never knew, but somehow he had stumbled upon a time-portal and was able to go back in time 54 years where he got his kicks from impressing the densions of war-torn London in ww2 at a time when Britiain's very future existence was in question with songs from the Sixties and Seventies and gifts which one couldn't get at the time. Also, he did seem to enjoy the occasional danger which he was put into.

'Which is where I am going to now!' Gary was looking into a heavily-bound book.

'Ah, what do we have there, bombing raids in London in 1942!'

'Well, as it says, there wasn't any tonight, which was good for London and for me, giving me, free time to spend with my love, Phoebe!'

'Your other love! Nice that you keep things in perspective!'

Gary smiled back, 'Oh, look at that a raid on Portsmouth, but few casualties, apparently!' Just then there was a noise. Gary started, 'What was that,' looking around. But there appeared to be nothing. 'Probably just a cat. I'll just check outside, don't want any burglars, do I? said he, but he could see nothing. 'I shouldn't be so jumpy! Ah, well, Ron, TTFM!' Gary gave Ron the traditional wartime farewell.

Gary popped back into a typically gloomy War-time London. As he moved down Ducket's passage he saw a shadowy shape. A figure was hiding behind a fence. Gary thought he could make out the shape of a gun. A sudden unreasoning feeling of danger hit Gary. Well, it wasn't totally unreasoning, the man could have been a robber, a German spy, or worse. Gary stepped back into the shadows. But the man advanced as though he was looking and Gary could see a gun, but not the face as it was kept under a large hat.

The man looked some more, Gary was sure he was about to be discovered. When there was a noise and someone else entered the alleyway. Phoebe! Gary moved out to greet her and the man, seemingly unwilling to take on two people quietly melted away. 'Phoeb!' cried Gary and gave her a hug. Phoebe was dark-haired and around 5ft 6 dressed in typical war-time attire which wasn't that flattering to be honest!

'Phoebe, what are you doing around here?'

'Well, it's close enough isn't it? Now there's not so many bombs going of, I thought I'd go for a bit of a walk around to get out of that pub. Reg is been particularly annoying at the moment. But it's nice to see you here. Not that I have seen you for weeks. Where have you been?'

Gary gave his normal alibi. 'War-work. Lots on at the ministry. Can't say what obviously!'

'Well, come on let's get inside you can buy me something!'

Inside the pub Which Phoebe ran called the Royal Oak, which consisted of one bar and a few chairs and tables windows covered in stickytape in case of bombs, Phoebe served a pint for Gary and a Gin for herself. Gary impressed her with some presents. 'Look, Cheese, Stake, some nylons, I bet you haven't seen them for a while, and some biscuits and coffee!'

Phoebe smiled but seemed less than impressed. 'You always bring me things from where, I don't know, but I'd prefer it if you would stay for a while. You've been away for so long, not a word. I know, you can't say,' Gary smiled sadly. He would like to spend more time with Phoebe, but then he would be away from Yvonne who also needed him. As a result, both of the women in his life spend much of their time lonely. It was not a fact he liked, but Gary couldn't see how he could stop this.

'Evening Gary!' said a familiar voice.

'Hello, Reg!' sighed Gary to a man around 20 years older than Gary in a 40's metropolitan police uniform. Reg Deadman the local bobby, but not the wisest pea in the pod. In fact, he was so stupid that he once left the Bar while he was serving to fetch something and told the Kray twins to watch the bar while he was gone. But nevertheless he was a friend of Gary's.

'Been away a while haven't you, keeping the secret world busy! You could tell us about it! Oh, you can't, can you. But never mind, why don't you sing us one of your songs, a new one to cheer us up!'

'Yes, good idea, come on Gary sing us something!'

Now, as a time traveller, Gary amused himself by singing songs of the Sixties and Seventies to the locals of the Royal Oak from the forties. For him, nothing was easier than badly singing songs from those era that everyone in the nineties knew, but he loved the looks of awe he received from the locals when he claimed he wrote those himself. Despite the fact, as his nineties mate Ron told him that technically speaking he was committing fraud, copyright theft and intellectual piracy by doing this, he was beyond even feeling guilty now. After all, it wasn't as if Paul McCartney could walk in and catch him out, could he!

Now, Gary choose a song which, ironically enough he had heard himself earlier on a nostalgic radio station. He felt that the people of the Royal Oak needing a bit of cheering up, so he sang and rather appropriately played on an old piano.

Waterloo, how does it feel that you won the war?

Waterloo, promise to love you for ever more!

Woo, woo, woo, Waterloo, finally facing my Waterloo!

As usual Gary received a generous round of applause with his singing and a grateful look from Phoebe. He gave a nod to a man that had helped him out with one of the verses. 'Good stuff, Gary!' cried Reg the policeman. 'Yes, nice to be reminded of old victories. Waterloo, we sorted out the Hun could and proper in that one!'

'Reg, Waterloo was against the French!' groaned Phoebe at him!

'Oh, yes, course it was, never was taught much history as a lad!' quipped Reg.

'Anyway, look at that, come on, time everybody, save you!' Phoebe smiled at Gary. 'I think you and I are spending a little time together tonight!' said she as she rang the bell to empty the Inn.

Early the next morning, upstairs, Gary switched on the radio to listen to the early-morning news.

'Expecting anything on this morning!' yawned Phoebe at him.

'Not really,' said Gary in a typical 1940's upstairs bedroom, some sheets which to him seemed old-fashioned but where of course good for the time and the cloudy, early morning air beamed through the windows. 'No, not much on at all in fact, I'm only putting it on to listen to George Formby!' said he rather ironically as he couldn't stand the man!

Then the radio announced, 'This morning there was a major raid at Portsmouth harbour. Hundreds dead and many buildings destroyed. A naval ship was in the harbour at the time and has suffered considerable damage. The war-cabinet is to hold a crisis meeting. This is the most substantial raid we have suffered for weeks since the one in London.'

Phoebe gasped, 'Gary, you where all caught on the hop on that one then!'

Gary himself was a little confused, so didn't reply. This he didn't expect. Surely a raid this size would have been mentioned in the book of War-time diary he possessed back in '97. He would have to check. So the next day he was in his shop across Duckett's passage in '90s London with Ron. It was mid-morning. Gary was looking through a large, red book containing all the important news on the home-front in WW2.

'I just don't understand, look at this, almost a page about one of the most substantial air-raids in 1942, but this wasn't mentioned yesterday. I would swear on that. I read it and it wasn't there.' Ron was looking at him with a rather steely glare. 'I suppose I could be cracking up. But this is the first time the book's let me down on this scale!'

'Perhaps they just got it wrong. Can I talk about my marriage?'

'Later, Ron, later, this is important! Yes, you can scoff. But I know for a fact that events in the past can change events in the future. Look! Oh, Ron, there's no need to be like that!' But it was too late Ron had walked out of the shop with all of it's little artifacts that Gary bought from the forties to sell as antiques in the nineties. So he decided he would have to talk to his wife instead.

'Ohhhh, I saw little Mike this evening earlier. He's so gorgeous, nearly 3 now. You know, Mike your godson. Though I'm beginning to have doubts about the wisdom of you been a godfather. Hello, anyone there?' Yvonne waved her hand across Gary's face. Gary was preoccupied. He was intensely reading his war-time diary seeing if something had gone wrong.

'Are you all right, you seem very quiet. Remember we are seeing mum and dad tomorrow, so please be on your best behaviour,'

'Sorry, I'm just reading this!'

'Oh, the War again, I wish sometimes you would live in this decade!'

Gary was sitting in the living room of a very small cul-de-sac in Cricklewood. He was pondering wartime detail. It was almost as if Winston Churchill was thinking war-time strategy in a small 4 by 4 starter home in North London! 'Yes, but look, Yvonne I've just read something. It appears that the bulk of the British navy'Channel fleet was moored in secret in the South coast for refuelling and the Luftwaffe are getting close to discovering their whearabouts!' Gary looked up in horror!

Almost as much horror as Yvonne had with this statement. 'Oh, and there was I thinking you where doing something important!' Yvonne had no idea what Gary was up to in war-torn Britain. She would have killed him had she found out! Yvonne put most of Gary's occasional comments about ww2 due to him been a bit of a prat at times.

But then she sighed seen her husband's concerned face. 'I tell you what, I will read this with you, if you promise to be on your best and most joyful behavior tomorrow, deal?'

Gary agreed.

'So what's the problem?'

'Well, the Royal Navy there is relatively undefended. They assume the Germans won't spot them in that Harbour. But what if they do? One raid upon that harbour and the Navy could be destroyed in a manner worse than that of the Americans at Pearl Harbour. The Luftwaffe are nosing around that area, have a look at the stats!' said Gary.

'Yes, but of course that didn't happen, did it, the Navy wasn't destroyed in Portsmouth in 1942 even me with my shaky knowledge of WW2 knows that.' sighed Yvonne.

'Yes, but I don't know how they managed that if the Navy wasn't spotted,' Gary brow frowned as he realized he would have to come up with some kind of convincing excuse to Yvonne without given his time-travelling exploits away! 'If I can't find out how they did this, I'll never be able to show my face with my pals at the Forties artifacts souvenir fares,' smiled Gary unconvincingly.

'I never thought I'd help someone trainspot! You owe me Gary!' said Yvonne unimpressed. She looked at the book. 'The Navy stranded. No help could be found from the RAF? No, oh well,' she looked around for a minute or two then sighed. 'Oh, well, I give up. Maybe one of your pals went into a Tardis and sent the British a jump harrier jet they could use!'

Gary looked up! His face was like a rabbit caught in a carlight Was Yvonne suspicious? No, she was only joking. But inadvertingly she might have helped. He might well have to do something like that. 'Thanks, Yvonne anyway, that could be a help!' Yvonne smiled and exited the room, walking through a cream coloured glass door.

The next day, Gary was back in his shop, which was a bit empty, looking at the late-spring drizzle falling outside. The door opened with a ring of it's little bell and in walked his mate Ron, rain falling down from his rain-coat covering his jeans and rather smart shirt. Gary felt he owed Ron and apology. 'Look, Ron, I'm sorry, I should have listened to you, I'm just a bit pre-occupied!'

'No need to apologize mate, but I felt I was better off elsewhere! Hmmm, there was me walking out on you, to come home to find out that my wife had walked out on me. I think my marriage might well be nearing breaking point. There just seems no way to talk to the missus on this one.' Ron sadly pulled out some container with alchol inside. His face was a picture of abject misery.

But Ron's face recently was one of abject misery quite a lot as far as Gary was aware. 'Think that things are that bad, mate!' asked he, Ron slowly nodded. Then Gary suddenly noticed that he had custom. A man was looking at one of the old Wartime pencils he sometimes sold. The man looked up at him. Gary thought him oddly familair.

'Any more of these?' asked the man.

'Hold on, got a stock on the shelves, Er, hold on!' Gary stood up on a ladder to the top shelf. He looked down. The man had disappeared! 'That was odd, did you see him?' he asked Ron. Ron shook his head, then Gary's attention was a bit distracted. He looked at the little portable TV he kept sometimes in the shop. Daytime TV was showing a repeat as usual but a recent one and a fairly entertaining one.

It was that of Dr Peters an entertaining and brilliant scientific mind but one that had recently had acquired a reputation as been a bit of a nutter. He talked about much of scientific advantage, but to be honest most of his viewers, like Gary or Ron didn't understand a word of that. They just liked the man's eccentricity. Typical Englishness.

As Gary commented watching Dr Peters old, black face breathlessly failing to explain deep-gravitational physics. 'What a nutter!' laughed he. 'No-one understands a word of which he is going on about. Anyway, Ron, that man looked familiar. I've seen him before. In the 1940s!' said he trying to explain to Ron's blank expression. Ron was looking at a Newspaper.

'Nice to see that we have a clean Government now. A fresh one, one that will not only be transparent, but will be seen to be transparent,' said Ron, commeting on the recent election victory of New Labour. This was 1997, remember! Like most people at the time, Ron was enthusiastic, though this wouldn't last long. Gary wasn't so sure and just gave Ron a skeptical look. Ron continued.

'Well, perhaps he is one of those people that have a gene throwback which makes them look the same as their granparents. You've mentioned to me before that are some of those about.' Which was true. There was a policeman in the '90s doing his beat that was the grandson of Reg Deadmen and he was the spitting image of the fellow. But Gary wasn't sure.

'There's one way to find out!' Gary dashed out to the shop's back. To the erected corrugated iron just before where his invisible time portal lay, he could see muddy footprints. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out that someone had just been there. Gary hurriedly took a quick look around. 'It was him. And he has gone back to the 40s. Another Time traveller. Using my portal, the check!' Gary could be very possessive about the time-travel portal at times. It wasn't like it was his, in fact Gary had no idea how it worked but he didn't meet many other people that could use it.

'Those aren't your footprints then?' asked Ron.

'No, I haven't been back today answered Gary. 'Sorry, Ron, I've got to go, I need to catch this guy, this is annoying me, oh, and yes there could be a security risk to the UK!' said he putting his priorities into order. With that he dashed through the portal and back to the 40s. Leaving Ron, looking at Gary sadly thinking to himself,

'He listened to me for at least five minutes!'

Gary slipped back to the 'forties. But he couldn't see anyone. 'Darn, must have missed him!' thought Gary and looked around. As always the 'forties seemed very dull and lifeless at least in terms of colour to the more panoramic nineties. He looked up into the sky. 'It's all right, my war-time diary said there was to be no air-raids on this part of London today!' As he thought this there was a bang, an explosion and flames of fire.

'And with the rift in time, I believe that book because?' thought he to himself as he ducked down. Poor Gary was caught in the middle of a war-time air-raid with no means of getting himself to a shelter. Gary was forced to duck down, yelling as the bombs fell down and just hoping that none landed near him. Gary was fortunate that day. After a nervous wait the all-clear sounded.

He dashed into the Royal Oak. Phoebe was serving at the bar, but there wasn't a great deal of custom, this been lunchtime in the 'forties as well! 'Phoeb, has anyone unusual been here today! Well, before the air-raid obviously.'

'No more so than usual, but we did have a break-in last night.'

'Yes, someone came in and stole five pounds from the till. We're making enquires.' Said Reg.

'Any leads?' asked Gary to the policeman.

'No!'

'Any witnesses?'

'No!'

'Any suspects?'

'No!'

'You have your work cut out then!' sighed Gary.

'Well, to be fair, when I say there are no suspects, there was one rather unofficial one!'

'How so?' Gary asked.

'The thing is there has been this chappie that has been coming in lately. Rather an odd fellow. Sometimes he seems very brilliant, doing things no one here could think of, yet at the same time he seemed odd. Almost out of place in his time. Do you know, he was looking around, and when I asked him what he was looking for, he said the loo, didn't seem to realize that it was outside!' laughed Reg, drinking a little swig of his beer.

'I thought him a good chap, bought me a drink, was asking odd questions!' said a little old man that was often at the bar, called Stan. Never spoke too much, well careless talk cost lives, but Gary was getting to know him.

Gary was now more convinced than ever that something odd was happening. 'Fine, thank you,' said he. But he was pondering his next move. He couldn't see the man anywhere, but Gary wouldn't mind betting he would use the time-portal again. So, Gary thought he would go back and guard it. Also as he said, 'Darn it, I've forgotten my little something for you, like a bunch of Bananas would you?' Seeing Phoebe's look he knew he would have to collect them from the nineties. 'I'll just pop back to headquarters!' said he with a wave of farewell.

Headquarters been Gary's shop 54 years later, but a small step for him. Gary saw Ron still there, 'Oh, Ron, I do keep forgetting about you, how are you now?' although Ron looked strangely cheerful and was wearing different coloured clothes from when Gary had last seen him.

'Not too bad, but if you're going to keep nipping off I'll have to watch one of your war videos!'

'Yes, sure, which one?'

'The one on 1948, The Europe campaign!' said Ron

'Yes, of course,' said Gary and picked up the video before realizing what Ron had said. 'What? d-day 1948! 44 surely,' then Gary looked at his videos. They where entitled 'the 9 years of WW2 1939-48. Gary nearly dropped the video in his horror. The timelines was been changed! Or something like that, Gary didn't really understand all that physics stuff. 'How come WW2 had suddenly lasted 4 years longer? Gary looked at Ron, 'Someone is seriously playing with the past.'

'Yes, you mentioned that before!'

'I'm putting a stop to it. There is serious flux for the time-space continuum!'

'Whatever you say, Dr Spock!' smiled Ron referring to a recent Star Trek film of a similar nature. This was an alternative timeline now!

'You can mock. But if I don't do something we could all be talking German!'

'Can't see that happening. I can talk only two languages, Scouse and English. I'm not great at the English!'

Gary tried something, 'Ron, what's the state of your marriage?'

'Martial bliss, as always. I'll soon be celebrating 7 years of happy marriage to my beloved. I'm going out to dinner with her tonight. Wonderful woman the missus, I couldn't do enough for her. I don't think a greater love has been invented than that between me and my wife!' Ron gave Gary a smile of a man that was blissfully happy. This definitely wasn't right and Ron didn't notice Gary's look at him.

'Now you're taking the mick!' said Gary. But now Gary had decided not to leave the portal unguarded for a while. So he looked at it from both sides. A few hours later, he was in the 'forties side trying to listen to anything suspicious. 'Hes bound to come back soon I just need to stay guarding this,' Gary was thinking to himself in the cold night. But Gary also thought, 'Maybe I could just nip into the Royal Oak. Only for one, naturally!

Gary put the hat to his Worcester suit on. But as he moved he heard something. Just a sound. But moving very quietly for such a tall man, Gary moved to a wall and took a little peek around. Yes, there was the man he had seen hiding in the shadows. Also operating some kind of transmitter. This was very suspicious. In fact the unauthorized use of a transmitter in the War itself could be enough to lock one up.

This was enough to go on, so Gary surprised the man, sneaked up onto him and put a pistol in his back. The man fought back briefly, producing a knife but Gary hissed at him, 'drop it!' and the weapon fell to the floor. Gary continued. 'I want to know who you are, how you are managing to use the time-portal, are you changing history and who you where transmitting to just now!'

'My name is Jean Von Bussel. There is no need to be so suspicious! I am on your side, I was just helping out the local authorities about air-raids right now!'

Gary didn't believe this for a second. His face in the dark if one could see was a picture of anger. He snarled in reply, 'Bullshit! I'm not buying that. Now, shall we try again, or shall I take you down to the local Police station. That use of a transmitter, which, by the way is ten years ahead of this time, I happen to know should be enough for them to ask some searching questions.'

Somehow this got through to the man. 'All right, I shall tell you! You, what makes you think you are the only person that can use these time-portals?' Von Bussel spoke in a vaguely European accent.

Gary muttered, 'Well, actually I kind of thought I was!'

'Well, you're not! Indeed many can. Though I admit I am one of the few that use the ones in this era. And I actually work for the Nazi higher command. I'm Belgium in fact, not German, but I sympathize with their aims. And the fact that they pay me a lot in terms of money and power for my time-travelling aid. All right, it is a bit difficult to convince them sometimes of the manner in which I collect my information...'

'I can imagine,' sort of sympathized Gary.

'But I can help them out. As you are seeing!' Gary digged him with his pistol for Von Bussel to continue. 'All right, all right. That transmission? Well, I was transmitting to the Luftwaffe information about the British Royal Navy based at Portsmouth. Sitting ducks, though they don't realize it. Now the Luftwaffe know, most of the Royal Navy will be destroyed in the next few days. I wonder how that will change the War outcome?'

'But why do that?'

'Do you know how much debt I am in this version of histoy? Well, it comes to many 0s. This is an alternative to a lifetime of debt. And if I can help make the master race pure and keep down all these N-s, P-s, Slavics and Queers, then that is all to the better. Shame about the Jews, still can't have everything one supposes!'

'Oh, lord, hes a genuine headcase,' thought Gary.

Gary snarled again and raised his pistol. 'What are you going to do now, shot me in cold blood!' smiled Von Bussel. 'This might be wartime, but you are from the nice nineties. Can you do this now for the first time? I'm not sure!' Gary pointed his gun but did nothing. It was true that if he was they spy he had often claimed to be he probably would have shot by now, but as he wasn't he hesitated a bit here.

'I will take you to the police station as I stated,'

'But I'm not coming, what are you going to do drag me there?'

'If necessary,'

'Bring it on!' Von Bussel gave a cold smile. So Gary moved over to grab him. When in a swift movement, Von Bussel gave Gary a nasty kick in the groin, the as Gary groaned, ran of in the shadows. Gary stood up, cursing.

'Oh, well,' thought he. 'I'd better put a general alert out for this man. But in the meantime, I could do with a drink. A lager this time, not wartime fare. I think I'll just pop back to '97. I presume not much else has changed,' and so he moved across the time-portal again. As he did so, he didn't notice Von Bussel looking at him and giving Gary a nasty little chuckle!

Gary dashed back to his nineties shop, or so he thought, without looking. He thought to himself, 'What an insane man!' then he did look up. The shop was different. Instead of British bits and pieces, it was daubed in black and red. Plus there where several Nazi swastika's around it. The videos read, 'A history of our beloved Hitler's glorious 40s conquering years!' The little TV he had was showing NNN Network Nazi News! He looked outside.

He could see the modern-day policeman grandson of Reg Deadman that he knew. But instead of his usual blue uniform, he was wearing black with a Nazi badge on his arm. The man gave Gary a Nazi salute. Gary looked outside some more and a patrol of Nazi stormtroopers carrying guns marched quickly by. Gary looked inside his shop again, there was a paper giving details of the 'World supreme leader introducing tough new rules for slaves!'

He looked at what was his war-diary and saw that it now talked of a 'Glorious German liberation of Britain from the terrors of Democracy!' Things had changed. What had happened now? History had been turned on it's head.

Gary gasped and slumped down on a chair. 'OMFG!' said he!

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

This is Goodnight Sweetheart, a Comedy that was popular at one time in the mid-nineties.

Disclaimer: The program was created by Laurence Marks and Maurice Gram

Goodnight Sweetheart the tune written by Al Boyle

I should point out here that this tale is totally made up. I have done no research at all on the whereabouts or tactics of the Royal Navy in 1942 and the battle of Portsmouth as far as I'm aware never happened. Though I suppose it might have done!

Goodnight Sweetheart, all my prayers are for you

Goodnight Sweetheart, I'll be thinking of you

Dreams and fortune can make us forlorn

But we'll be born. A new day had dawned

Gary's first reaction was to dash back across Duckett's passage. But then the Nazi policeman version of Reg Deadman walked in. He spoke, in German though Gary didn't realize this at first, 'You are using too much light at night for this area. Turn it down!'

Gary replied, 'Yes, fine, in a moment,' and moved to the time-portal hurriedly.

Von Deadman pulled out a pistol and pointed it at Gary's head. He screamed in the cliched manner of Nazi officers everywhere. 'You will do so NOW! Not obeying the orders of a Reich official is an offence and those that commit offences will be SHOT!' Slowly, very reluctantly, Gary moved back to the shop, noticing that now it seemed to be selling various Nazi regalia.

'Keep your hair on!' muttered Gary quietly as he did so. He had hoped the Nazi policeman would leave. But sadly for him, the door opened and he saw Yvonne, his wife. A version of Yvonne Gary didn't instantly recognize. She was wearing a Khaki uniform, a black raincoat and a hat with a little Swastika on the brim. Now he remembered.

What was happening to Gary was complicated. That's what happens if one wonders around in an alternate version of time! Of course, he could remember what had happened in the original version of History. But now it had been changed, Gary's make-up had been changed a little as well with it, and he was remembering a different version of himself. Complex!

One thing he did remember was that in this reality, his wife was a major Nazi. She always was ambitious. But the idea of 'his' Yvonne been a Nazi just didn't ring true. She would never have been a Nazi in any circumstances. Just went to show that when timelines changed, people themselves did. Gary wondered if it was the lack of guidance from himself that had turned Yvonne. Then he remembered what type of guidance he had given her. It hadn't helped! Yvonne seemed very insistent and as a high-ranking Nazi there was no arguing with her.

'Gary darling!' said she, 'I havent seen you for ages! If I didn't know better, I'd say you where deliberately avoiding me. I trust you appreciate how annoying I find that!' Yvonne gave a sweet but dangerous little smile.

'No, no, of course I'd be delighted to spend time with you!'

'Excellent! So get going!' Yvonne tapped Gary on the back side as he went. 'Nice arse!' said she appreciatively. Gary came to Yvonne's staff car, a Mercedes but one with two little Nazi's flags. The driver, Ron, saluted them both and the vehicle started up. Gary was driven across the London streets with the car, as it was carrying an important Government official, ignoring any traffic lights, road wigns or any other road users. While it did, he took some time to re-familiarize himself with this timeline.

It had appeared, he had remembered, that 1942 was the key year. In the Battle of Portsmouth, much of the British Navy in the Channel had been sunk with little loss to the Lufftwaffe. With that, Hitler was tempted and so invaded and conquered Britain. With the resources of Britain, and much of her Empire, the Nazies had subdued the Soviet Union. America, which took very long to be an enthusiastic ally anyway, remained on the sidelines, unable to do anything.

Most of the world had become a German/Japanese hegemony. Various disgusting programs had been carried out against different peoples. The Jews had been exiled, then the Nazis had decided that wasn't enough and slaughtered them. Few remained. The Slavic's were next as where many Catholics, gypsies, Arabs. It was just one people been wiped after another. The blacks and Asians were turned into virtual slave races. Apartheid ruled throughout Africa.

Gary was thinking that he would like to know a bit more about the Battle for Portsmouth. There had seemed to have been a lot written about it. The Nazis liked to crow! As Gary entered the chambers of Yvonne, he nodded to Ron, who said in German, actually! 'A word of advice. Be nice to Yvonne. She's getting a bit suspicious!' Gary and Ron had been up to some dodgy deeds!

' Er, yes, I'll be careful' replied Gary in the same German. As soon as he said that, Gary thought to himself, 'Since when did I learn to speak German?' shaking his head. But it was, in fact, pretty poor German and Ron wasn't impressed!

'Gary, Gary, I've told you before, you'll never get anywhere in this world if you don't improve you're German. You have to learn the language of our masters!'

'If I must!' sighed Gary.

Then the door to a bed chamber opened and Yvonne's head popped out. She said sweetly, or as sweet as someone wearing a Nazi hat can be! 'Gary darling come into bed and bring a nice stiff weapon for me!' grabbed Gary's hand and dragged him in. Yvonne was in a full female Nazi outfit, complete with knee-length skirt, hat shirt, a little tie and Nazi badges.

She quickly unbuttoned her outfit, throwing off her dress, revealing very sexy suspenders and expensive red knickers! She kissed Gary very firmly and threw him onto the bed. It has to be said that Gary enjoyed this type of thing. In actual fact, Women in uniforms he found a considerable turn on! But this was taking things a bit too far! Thought he!

Outside, unable to stop himself from listening, Ron smiled at the thud, thud, thud of the vibrating sexual gymnastics! Much later, Gary was lying in bed, wearing only a pair of pants. Yvonne was in a pink, silk, nightie. 'Now then, said Yvonne seductively. 'Why don't you lay back and I'll have something nice and sweet to put in your mouth!'

'Arr,' said Gary opening his moth and closing his eyes.

'This!' snapped Yvonne and pushed a pistol into his open mouth. 'Get up!' ordered she to the astonished Gary, 'Yes, look surprised' Yvonne was ironic. 'I have found out about your little affair with that barmaid. I will kill you. And Ron, him knowing about it. I am going to crucify you to a cross in Leicester Square, cut of your genitals and stitch them to your mouth and let the crows and seagulls slowly peck you to death!'

The Nazi version of Yvonne was quite capable of doing this. Gary looked up in terror. 'No, don't get dressed!' Yvonne screamed, 'I want you to look stupid!' Yvonne let out a shot between Gary's legs making him jump and move.

'What have I been getting up to in this timeline?' muttered Gary to himself as he was marched away. 'Oh, yes, that,' remembered he, that even in this timeline he had been unable to resist the temptations of using his Nazi contacts, though he hated them, to play about with a nice little mistress which Yvonne had obviously found out about.

So poor? Gary was thrown, in chains, into an unkempt prison cell with Ron as company. But that was some comfort to know that even here his mate Ron hadn't fallen for all that Nazi propaganda. Even if Ron was a bit of a crock. Though Ron did sigh, 'and I'm missing the cricket!'

Ar, Cricket! Gary thought about that, Cricket had not been abolished though it had come close. And indeed, England where World Champions. Although this was partly due to the fact that due to its stiff resistance to the Japanese in the '40s and early '50s Australia had been invaded by a combined Japanese/Dutch force and it's population wiped out to the last man with the loss of 20m lives.

Some Japanese sheep grazed there now. It said a lot for Gary's thoughts on Cricket that he almost thought this was worth it! Where it not due to the fact that every Pitch was daubed with a Nazi swastika! 'Oh, that's all we need!' groaned Ron as Gary looked up to the figure of Von Bussel. He was looking very pleased with himself with a rather gloating smile

'Vell, what do you think? Like what I've done? I think this reality is a considerable improvement!' Von Bussel grinned evilly. 'Nice to see the Master race where it should be. You know, only us three have any idea what really happened. I'm not sure that Ron really counts. He seems a bit confused!' Von Bussel pulled out a pistol. 'I should just shot you know for safety. But then, Yvonne wants to crucify you, cut of your genitals, tie them to your mouth and let the crows and seagulls peck you to death and she is insistent.

'You know, it really is difficult persuading even the Nazis of my contributation,' Von Bussel continued. 'Even now, some of them aren't convinced about my altering history. Still, I have made enough of a deal to be happy myself! Maybe I'll see you on the cross!' laughed Von Bussel exciting.

'What a git,' groaned Ron. The precise relationship now between Ron, Gary and the timeportal was a little complex! To say the least. 'And here's someone else!' and the head butler, Peters a clever Black man, but due to his skin colour unable to rise above the rank of Butler came in and made a pretence of checking the locks. Then he drew out a key and quickly released Gary and Ron.

'We haven't much time,' started he as he unbuckled the keys. 'About five minutes, actually. But I can get you to a safe house for a while. Beyond that!' Peters shrugged. But Gary was just happy to be out of the cell.

'Peters, I just need to get to Duckets Passage!' Gary stammered.

'Why, what good will that do?' asked Peters.

'It might be our only chance,' said Gary.

'Is this to do with your?' said Ron, slightly aware of Gary's time-travelling.

'A bit!'

'Well, we just have to trust him, Peters!'

'I can't just get you there, the roadblocks are a nightmare. But look I can get you to a safe house, and we can take it from there. I know of one!' Gary agreed with Peters, it gave him a chance. Peters was a key member of what was left of any resistance to Nazi rule in Britain. Gary was hurried out of the building by a secret exit, bundled into a car and in half-an-hour was in a boarded up room underground in secret.

And later on looking at Peters who had just come down the stairway next to a large column. Peters, Gary now vaguely remembered was the person in the original reality who had been presenting weird, clever, but totally non-understandable programs on advanced science. Here, he was presenting a large book to him. 'You said you wanted to know more about the Battle of Portsmouth. Well you could read through this...'

Peters showed Gary the heavy book which seemed like around 1500 pages to Gary. 'Or perhaps I could summarize for you.' Gary nodded his brown-barnacled head. 'Very well, fascinating battle that, I must say. Lots written about it. Amazing the little coincidences that happened to both sides some argue that the actions of even single people could have changed the conclusion, then who knows what might have happened?'

'Could you, er, expand on that?' Gary asked.

'Well,' said Peters and in his normal manner when not working picked up a pair of modern Binoculars, knocking over a lampshade as he did so. 'Some say that simply one of these might have saved the British. The Luftwaffe got the British fleet not on battle alert. Several of our larger ships were sunk with little loss to the Germans. Well, they couldn't be on one indefinitely, you know! Yet the British Radar and scouts never spotted the Luftwaffe until it was too late. But with one of these with twice the viewing range, they might have done!'

Gary looked and moved his hand to pick up the Binoculars. He wasn't sure if the loss of a few battleships would have made such a difference but might it have done? 'Erm, I wonder if I could borrow those?' Well, he had to admit that it was his wife, the original version that had the idea. She had suggested taking a modern weapon back to the 40s to help the Brits, but the problem for Gary was that he didn't want to take something too modern or devastating or else there could be a Nuclear war in 1944, but something like an updated pair of Binoculars was ideal!

'Why sure,' continued Peters. 'But of course, in War there where problems on both sides. The Germans had the wrong type of bullets apparently, and the only casualties they had occurred with some planes colliding with each other, and the steering of the Planes setup was not the best. But most lay with the British. When even a few attacking aircraft manage to find some warships unprepared, there really is only one winner.'

'Also,' Peters walked around as he talked. There was more of a touch of the mad professors about Peters. 'There was the case of the British shaft drilling system. It was very wasteful. With just a alteration of the Gap/systic flow, energy could have been saved, converted into bullets, quickly and given the British more ammo!' Gary looked non-comprehending the last statement.

'I think I'll go with the Binoculars!' said he. 'You know, it really is sad that with the Raciest laws in place a talented man like yourself doesn't get appreciated more. You've been a great help,' indeed Gary was a little relived. At least he had some kind of plan now. Even if getting back to Duckettts Passage wouldn't be easy and he wasn't sure of it's conclusion.

'Well, that's how it is,' sighed Peters sadly. 'I always wanted to be a University lecturer, but that was just silly. I'm quite lucky not to live in slavery like my Brothers, really. But I have a feeling my run of luck is coming to an end. I wish things where otherwise but, what can you do?

'That's one thing I can do,' whispered Gary frantically, 'I can think of a society where races are treated equally, black fellows can have professional jobs, be top sportsman, taste freedom. But it's not this one,' Gary thought that things where not necessarily always great for non-whites where he came from, but it was a damn sight better than here.

'You'll be telling me there'll be a Black President of America, soon!' Peters laughed.

'That's probably going a bit too far, I can't see a Black President of the USA in any lifeline!' said Gary.

Actually, in this reality, the USA had been conquered as well and lived as a satellite state, not the super-power that it had been in Gary's lifeline. Gary now, however, really thought it was time to get back to Duckett's passage. 'Peters, Ron, I need to get to Duckett's passage. This could be the only way to save the world from the Nazi domination. Trust me, I have a plan'

Now, there was a sit-com. Only Fools and Horses. One of it's major characters was a slightly dimn character known to one and all as Rodney the Plonker. Gary had an uncanny resemblance to him, surprisingly. He sounded like Rodney at times. So, the world could only be saved from the Nazi's by Rodney the plonker! Could be in trouble.

Peters looked at Gary and Ron, 'Is this one of Gary's little...'

'I think so,' replied Ron.

'This might cost me my life. But all right, I'll give it a go!' Peters agreed.

So, later on that evening as rain spat down, Gary and Ron where bundled into the boot of a car which Peters drove. Ron said to Gary, 'You could be in trouble, I've heard Yvonne wants to cut of your genitals, tie them to your mouth, then crucify you in Leicester Square as the crows and Seagulls...' Gary sighed as he was getting a bit fed up of this been relayed to him,

'Slowly peck me to death, yes, yes, I know, thank you!'

'Just passing The Fuhrer square now!' Peters said. Of course, Hitler himself had died some time in the early 60s. His succession had passed to his son, but then there was some very ungainly squabbling amongst the Nazi leadership for his succession and one of his relatives had taken over and now his successors ruled like the old style Roman Emperors, unelected, unaccountable, save by assassination which only made matters worse, and with no talent for leadership whatsoever.

Just before they entered the turning to the shop, the car stopped. Gary pecked out and saw in horror Von Deadman with his hand raised in a stop sign. He hastily dropped back down. Von Deadman stepped forward and said to Peters. 'One moment, please, random search, just want to check out on any criminal activities you know!' He prodded various bits of the car with his truncheon, but to the relief of Gary wasn't in the mood to check the boot.

But Von Deadman did pick up the Binoculars. 'What are you doing with these old things, not the latest model, are they?' he laughed. Then he slowly put them back and waved the car on its way. But Gary was thinking on other matters. To Gary, the original reality was been slowly driven back in his mind and taken over by the new one. It was almost as if his old life was becoming a bit of a dream and he had to pinch himself and concentrate to remember it in detail at all. In time, he would forget it totally if he couldn't go back. That was the nature of changing time. The Gary of the Nazi timeline would take over his body totally.

But then there was another problem. Just as he got out of the boot he heard a voice. 'There he is, I thought he'd come sneaking around here!' Gary looked and to his horror saw Yvonne a little way back on the top of an armoured car. Gary ran as fast as he could to the shop where the portal lay. Yvonne said to Von Bussel, 'I'll look forward to his execution. How many is that this year?'

'50000, 40000 for political crimes,' answered Von Bussel. 'Nice round number!.'

Yvonne cried aloud in German screeching at her Stormtroopers to fire.

Gary dashed inside the shop. But Ron wasn't so lucky. As bullets hit the pavements, Ron was hit in a hail of them falling dead. Gary looked in grief for his friend, lingering for almost a moment too soon. For bullets where aimed at him and he had to move as a shell from a tank hit the shop, Gary only in the nick of time dived through a burning flame, over some bins and through the time-portal in high speed to the sound of explosions behind him.

'There you are, Gary, You've been away ages again!' said Phoebe to him as he returned to the Royal Oak back in the '40s. But then she noticed that Gary was bleeding from cuts, bruised trembling in a terrible state. 'What has happened to you?'

'We have a problem. A very serious problem. We are facing a surprise attack of the worse kind. I've only just found out,' Gary breathed deeply. 'I have to get to Portsmouth Harbour as quick as possible,' Gary then realized that he did have a couple of days. But laterally only 3 till the attack. 'Time to do a bit of cleaning up of myself,' he muttered.

So later, he was trying to relax himself and to focus with a beer on a corner of the Royal Oak. When he saw his friend Reg. 'I think we need a bit of cheering up again, how about another of your songs?'

'Yes, come on!' cried a few others.

'Fair enough,' said Gary and went to play one. But one which summed up his mind at the moment.

I see a bad moon rising

I see that troubles on the way

I see thunder and lightning

I see that is coming my way!

Don't go out tonight,

It's gonna take your life

I see a bad moon tonight!

Well, this little werewolf didty wasn't greatly appreciated as much as his other songs.

'What type of song is that?' grumped Reg.

'Bad moon rising, trouble on the way, Gary, We've been at war for 3 years, don't you think we don't know that,' groaned Phoebe. 'Oh, well, can't like them all I suppose.' Disappointed, Gary stopped playing. 'Time, please, everyone!' said Phoebe. 'So I suppose you're off to this Portsmouth thing,' said Phoebe gloomily as the drinkers slowly left the Royal Oak and Reg started to clean up.

'I'm sorry, I have to, it's really important,' answered Gary, meaning it this time!

'Well, in that case,' growled Phoebe. 'I'm coming to. Don't whinge to me about security leaks, I can come at least as far as Portsmouth Harbour. You might need me!'

'But, this is secret!' protested Gary feebly.

'Then why did you tell us all, you Narna?' laughed Phoebe.

Gary thought. Well, he wasn't going back to the nineties until he had sorted this. Perhaps it would be nice to have Phoebe's companionship. He looked across slowly at her, 'All right then. I'll be leaving tomorrow early. I know the precise time and date that the raid is going to happen.' Gary raised his eyes nervously. 'Thinking about it, I'm probably the only one that does!'

'I'm coming to!' said Reg.

'What!' cried Gary in horror.

'Come on, you might need someone of sense in their!'

'In that case why should I ask you, Reg!' Gary rolled his eyes as sense was not normally something mentioned in the same breath as Reg Deadman. 'But, all right then,' Gary was just making his way upstairs when Stan said,

'I think I'll come!'

'What, why, Stan?'

'I know a thing or two about Ships, Gary. I was on one in the last war and during some of the Twenties. I was actually first Lieutenant. It was only a destroyer, but still a decent ship. Sailing is in my blood. After all that Hitler has chucked down up on us, it would be nice to get one over on him!' Stan was a little man, nearing pension age that looked like your typical Eastend Londoner.

'Lieutenant, rubbish! I don't know who Stan is trying to kid, people like Gary I suppose that don't know any better but he never made it past Petty officer,' muttered Reg.

Phoebe smiled, 'Stan was on three ships and each one of them sunk!'

'Not my fault, though!' protested Stan.

'Oh, very well, come along then, Uncle Albert!' said Gary, jokingly to Stan. Gary watched OFAH as well!

It was outside the security gates of Portsmouth harbour. Gary was trying to persuade the sentries to let him in but with limited success. 'Look, I have to get through. Just let me see your Commanding officer. This is important. Oh, don't waffle on to me about red tape. I'm on your side, this could be crucial. Just let me talk to someone in authority. It doesn't have to be long.' Gary was getting frustrated with the bureaucracy. Timing was crucial here. An attack was due in a matter of hours.

But the sentry finally agreed. 'I'll take you to see Mrs Deeppeck. She'll know what to do!' It was only the presence of a Policeman, an ex-naval serviceman and a typical Eastend barlady that pesuaded the Sentry to do this. Had Gary been on his own, he might have had a much tougher job. So he was taken to one of the offices.

Mrs Deeppeck was an odd and powerful woman. She was of Indian origin having joined the Navy in the Raj. It was unusual in the least for the Navy to employ in such a position a Indian female secretary, but she did have talent and these where desperate situations. In fact, Mrs Deeppeck had influence far more than here mere position as Secretary implied.

And she took some convincing, but many others in her position wouldn't have been convinced. 'I'm sorry Mr Sparrow, but I just can't keep the fleet on alert due to your, frankly rather suspicious word. We can't keep the Fleet in readiness permanently. We have done so for a few days. We've had no attack yet, it would be unfortunate indeed if the Luftwaffe attacked now of all times.'

'Unfortunate, rubbish,' thought Gary. Now he remembered, the points about the fleets movement where in public display in the Nineties. He wouldn't have put it past Von Bussel to have read these and have passed the relevant information over to the Nazis. But then he couldn't really say, 'Well, in fact I've just been to the future and have seen a security leak where someone has looked into the past about these events to change the future,' could he!

But he was wondering how to convince Mrs Deeppeck. 'Maybe if I just stood around here, doing nothing and in a few hours I'll just have a little look out,' said he with his Binoculars taking a little look.

This didn't work. 'You don't seriously think I'm going to let you look out with that dodgy thing!'

'You have to admit she's got a point it does look a little suspicious!' added Reg rather unhelpfully.

Phoebe was struck by an idea, she been about in the 40s and knowing Gary well. 'Mrs Deeppeck, why don't you just let Gary, under supervision, go to your main look-out and let him see through them if there is any pending Luftwaffe attack? If there isn't, then you know that Gary is a bit of a loon and you can let him go.' There was a little pause. Mrs Deeppeck was looking like she was wanting to be convinced but not sure. Gary was holding his breath, he had nothing more to add here.

But then Mrs Deeppeck said, 'Fine, I will agree with that. But what are those Binoculars, Gary, I don't recognize those.'

Gary had been prepared for a question like this. He said, trying to sound very impressive and mysterious, 'Well, this is from the source where I received this information. It's from the Germans, you know how good they are at technical matters. It's one of there latest designs. Fortunately I managed to acquire a prototype. It's good though!' Gary was relived that Mrs Deeppeck appeared to accept this.

Later, Gary was thinking it was only a short while until the all-important raid. He did know this, he had the precise times almost imprented in his memory. But at the moment, Reg and Stan had gone out for a quiet smoke and a brew-up. Gary turned to speak to Phoebe, when there was a thud and Phoebe was knocked unconcious by someone in the cool evening.

Gary heard a voice, 'Nice and easy now! We'll just go for a short walk shall we? You've made my life difficult here for a while, making me a wanted man putting my name to the Police and all!' It was Von Bussel and in the balconies shadows, Gary could see he was pointing a small Pistol at him. In fact, Von Bussel's plan was to take Gary out to the harbour in a boat, then shot him and slip away quietly.

Von Bussel continued, 'Still shouldn't be for long. I happen to know that after the invasion I will be well rewarded. Now get going!' Von Bussel moved Gary along to a little boat where he intended to row him to the harbour. Von Bussel could have just shot Gary there and then, but he was thinking it would have been too much in the view of the navy patrolmen, Von Bussel had just sneaked in there, after all.

Gary was rowed a little into the Harbour. Then Von Bussel pointed his pistol at Gary. And Gary heard a shot.

Reg and Stan had just finished their brew-up. Reg said, 'Think I might pop over to see if I can find a beer!'

Stan sighed, 'Much as I like a pint, shouldn't we check up on Gary and Phoebe first? Things could be getting important!'

'Suppose!' agreed Reg. So the two moved back to where Gary had been. And now he wasn't!

Reg saw Phoebe slowly getting up and ran to her to help. 'What happened to you?' asked he.

Phoebe stood up. She was feeling rather sick in the head after been banged, but she was a tough woman and would recover. She staggered and hang on to Reg in the dark. There wasn't much light here, just a few lamps on the shore. The Sea's green waves sloshed up behind her and a little further down. She said, 'I just felt a band on the back on my head and went out. Where's Gary?' she asked panicky.

'What has he gone, don't you know where?'

'No idea, we'd better look for him, there may be Nazi spies around!' suggested Phoebe. The three had a quick look around. 'He doesn't seem to be about.' groaned Phoebe, thinking they may have to just give up and wait for him.

But then Stan, proving that 3 pairs of eyes where better than 2 and who had been looking around carefully spotted Gary in the shadows in a little boat out in the harbour. 'There he is and someone with him. Is it just me or does that person with him look a bit suspicious with that pistol? Hold on, it's that Von Bussel,' finished Stan, recognizing the man with Gary.

Then Reg took a hand. With his pistol, he took a good aim and shot Von Bussel from long range with unclear vision. It was the shot of his life. Von Bussel fell into the water, dead from the bullet. Gary looked up, wondering where that shot had come from, then saw his friends in the harbour bay. He gave them the thumbs up sign, surprised that Reg had turned out to be such a good shot.

As was Phoebe. 'Reg, where did that come from, since when where you a crack shot?'

Reg replied a little pleased with himself, 'Used to be a marksman in the old days. Once went into the national police shooting competition. Have to say, even though I do myself that was a good shot. Good thing I remembered to bring that pistol we have in the Royal Oak. Thought this might be a dangerous mission. Even top marksmen might not have made that.' Reg smiled. Meantime, Gary was in a hurry. There was little time left, but he thought he just about had enough.

Gary hurried to where on of the main look-outs where stationed. 'How's it going?' asked he.

The look-out replied, 'Very quiet, I can't see anything. Even if something was coming I'm sure we'd be told on the radar. Reckon there's nowt on tonight.'

Gary smiled, 'Well, before you do, take a look through those!' said he handing the man his future Binoculars. 'Latest prototype. German actually, we knicked it. A bit hush-hush really. Just look through it like so and keep looking, especially towards France. Now tell me what you see!' The look-out did as Gary suggested and put the Binoculars to his eyes.

For a few minutes the look-out was silent. Then he gasped. He looked at Gary. 'German planes. Lufftwaffe. An entire squadron of them flying across the channel.'

'Enough of a security risk for you?' asked Gary

'I'd say,' agreed the look-out. 'I'll inform the base command of this. We should go to red alert!'

Later, but not much later, Gary was sitting in a harbour air-raid shelter, looking out as the planes started their assault. He was thinking that at least the fleet had time to prepare, but it looked like Battle was still about to commence. The defence gunners started shooting at the planes which launched torpedoes and bombs at the harborage. Flames lit up and the ground shook as bombs hit nearby.

'Bloody hell!' screamed Phoebe as dust fell onto her from the ceiling. 'This is a major raid all right. This is worse than the other time I was bombed out. At my sisters. The entire house blew. I only survived because I dived under the big dinner table. Beryl received a compound fracture to the leg. But we where lucky. Family next door got a direct hit and all were killed. Bloomin war!' cried she.

'Get down!' cried Gary as an explosion rocked the shelter. A beam fell from the roof onto the unfortunate Stan's head. It was more than he could take, him been a pensioner and all. He fell, dead, which Reg confirmed after a brief examination.

'No, Stan!' cried Phoebe, but there was nothing she could do, 'He's been coming to the Royal Oak from before I was born!' she sobbed. She looked at his corpse sorrowfully. 'All right, so he wasn't the greatest one for conversations or bright chat, but the place won't be the same without him. We'll have to drink to him when we get back!'

'If we get back!' Gary pointed out as the bombing was getting a bit active. Gary took a look outside and saw the flames and smoke rise from explosions, ships rocking many of which where on fire, the screams of the planes swooping above, the rattle of the bullets from the defending machine-gunners. Gary had been told that the RAF where on their way, but he couldn't see any sign of them.

Gary was wondering. Had his warning come to late? Was it hear and now the time that history changed after all? If it had he wondered what he would do. Well, there would be no going back to the Nazi-run 90s obviously. So he decided that if this was where Democracy, freedom and Britain died, then he might as well die with them. He looked around nervously.

In the harbour one of the ships had been hit. Not a major one, as it happened but it looked big enough from where Gary was watching. Gary saw the explosions rip the deck and heard the sailors scream as many jumped into the sea on fire, some drowning, some suffering a hot death in the engine rooms of the vessel. Hmmmm, that wasn't very funny, was it?

One thing Gary did think, as he often thought when in the middle of events like this was that the various modern-day film makers really didn't have a clue about what it was really like in the middle of a WW2 battle for all of their special effects, one just couldn't reproduce anything like it. It seemed a bit of an odd thing to think, but Gary couldn't help but think, 'Speilberg, you haven't a clue!'

But the flames forced Gary back down into the shelter where he had to remain for the rest of the battle. In a clear, but smoky morning, in a confused and busy port, Gary tried to find some information on what had happened. He managed a brief conversation with Mrs Deeppeck. 'Many of our vessels have been hit, hundreds of sailors dead or injured. But none of our major battleships, we managed to put them out to sea. Also, the RAF did manage to arrive, just about in the nick!'

'Where their many Lufftwaffe casualties?' Gary asked.

'Yes, several dozen of their planes where reported as hits. Seemed to be nearly half of their squadron, also a few took a detour to Southampton , we where able to warn them of that.' Deeppeck was been a little modest, this was her been very efficient that spotted a few planes heading of elsewhere, the only one in the base that had the time to notice.

Gary was a bit more hopeful with this bit of information. It didn't seem to be the changed version of history, but he couldn't quite tell. He said, 'Well, glad to be of help, I'll just be on my way then!'

'Not so fast!' coughed Mrs Deeppeck. 'We need to know precisely how you managed to obtain that interesting bit of information, and that cute pair of Binoculars of yours!' Well, actually during the mad dash to the shelter, Gary had dropped the Binoculars in to the harbour water where it lay in the depths. Bit of a relief really! But Mrs Deeppeck snapped her fingers and a couple of very large guards took Gary into custody.

Around mid-day, PC Reg Deadman was having a quiet lunchtime mild and Phoebe was serving at the Bar of the Royal Oak and a few scattering of customers where present. Reg looked up and Gary walked through and ordered a beer.

'Gary how you've been haven't seen you for three days!' said he.

'Took me that long to convince the relevant authorities I wasn't a spy!' sighed Gary.

'You are a Spy!' pointed out Reg saying the obvious.

'A Nazi spy, that is!' said Gary, sighing at Reg, thinking about his recent experiences. It was nice to come back to the familiar if a bit barren, well, this was war-time after all! surroundings of the Royal Oak. He gave a little wave to Phoebe. Gary intended to have a quiet pint, honour Stan's memory then take a very nervous look into the Nineties.

Gary still wasn't totally sure what he would find there. The news he had been hearing from the Radio, press and Newsreels didn't look like the events at Portsmouth was a major defeat like he had heard in the Nazi timeline, but he still couldn't be sure until he checked in the nineties. And he wasn't sure what he would find there! After a stiff pint, he thought he would have to find out.

'Fancy playing one of your songs, well, a better one than the last effort?' suggested Reg.

Gary declined, 'Sorry got to go. Urgent department business!' this was almost true.

With a nervous sigh Gary cautiously, very cautiously made his tentative way across the time-portal back to the Nineties. The first good news was that the shop was still there and in the way he remembered in the proper non-Nazi victory version of history. He looked around, yes it was how he remembered it, for sure. Then Gary remembered something and looked at the Videos's he was selling. The War years, 1939 - 45. How Gary sighed with relief.

The next thing was that Ron burst in. 'Gary, there you are, haven't seen your for a while, where have you been?'

'You wouldn't believe where, but I might tell you!' Ron looked suitably miserable so Gary tried something. 'Ron, whats the state of your marriage?' he asked, really hoping without any regard for Ron's feelings on the matter in typical style that the answer would be that it was terrible. This was because if that was so, it would mean that Gary had done it, with a little help and time was back on it's proper track.

So, to confirm, Gary asked Ron, 'How's your marriage now?'

'Terrible, surprised you asked, it's getting worse,' replied Ron gloomily.

He didn't quite expect Gary's reply, 'Brilliant, brilliant,' and hugged Ron, knowing that meant that everything was now ok. Unfortunately looking at Ron's face, he suddenly realized that Ron might not appreciate this!

'Well, I'm glad you think it's brilliant, my life in such a mess,' grumped Ron.

'Are, well, not for you, obviously, sorry, I'll explain later!' As he said this he heard a noise. It was from his Radio that was playing a tune. Well, if one could call it a tune. It seemed to Gary like a washing machine played backwards. Actually it was an example of typical nineties oldskool rave. But Gary wasn't a fan. Well, he was in the nineties! He didn't have to go back to the nineties!

'Dear, oh dear, what is this rubbish?' he complained.

'I think some kids like it,' said Ron in some agreement.

'I wonder what would be the reaction of those would be in the Royal Oak if I played them this!' said he shaking his head. Mind, if he thought that stuff was bad, it was probably a good thing he would never be around to listen to what they would be playing on the Radio around 15 years later. 'I bet no-one will get nostalgic over this kind of thing!' laughed he, wrongly as it happened.

Then Gary noticed what was on the little TV he had in the shop. It was one of Dr. Peters programs. 'He's on again, I said he was a bit of a nutter!' smiled Ron, but Gary thought there was more to Dr. Peters than many thought.

There was a ring on the shop's door and Yvonne entered. This been the non-Nazi version of Yvonne, obviously! Then looking at her, Gary thought that she wasn't that happy with him either. He did wonder what it was for, having to adjust his mindset back to the proper nineties timeline. Then he remembered. Good lord, on top of everything else he had forgotten about his meeting up with Yvonne's parents!

'Gary,' snapped Yvonne. 'If you wanted an excuse not to see mum and Dad, I expect a slightly better one than, "Oh, there's a bit of a collector's due at a pub in Bolton"'

Gary stammered back, 'Erm, did I say that,' in puzzlement, then he looked at Ron and figured out what had happened. From the shrug that Ron gave to him, it was clear that Ron had given this as an excuse to cover his absence. Yvonne often did ask Ron where Gary was when he was in the 40s and sometimes Ron gave excuses that sometimes where quite ridiculous as this one was.

Gary gave Ron a 'What type of excuse was that?' look to which Ron replied with a

'Tell someone that gives a damn!' type of look.

Gary wished he could say to Yvonne, 'Well, the thing is Yvonne, I've been back to the 40s through a timeline actually, where I encountered a Nazi timetravellor who was trying to change history which I managed in extreme circumstances to stop so all-in-all and with a near death trip to a Nazi run England I'm sorry I missed your Mother, oh and I did have an affair with a 40s barmaid in the meantime...'

So without giving himself away, he couldn't really say that could he? 'So, in fact you're seeing Mum tomorrow, enjoy it!' Yvonne ordered.

'You where just a bit too good as a top-Nazi,' Gary muttered to himself about Yvonne! Gary looked at Yvonne. She was glaring at him with a very stony face. He also looked at his mate, Ron who he was glad to see alive this time, Ron was also glaring at him with a very stony face. Gary sighed. 'So this is the welcome the conquering hero gets! thought he!

Goodnight Sweetheart, all my prayers are for you

Goodnight Sweetheart, I'll be thinking of you

Dreams and fortune can make us forlorn

But we'll be born. A new day had dawned

Goodnight Sweetheart, Goodnight!

THE END


End file.
